


Penguin's Return.

by Aziraphale7



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 06:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18337760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziraphale7/pseuds/Aziraphale7
Summary: A writing of the Van Dahl family end scene from Oswald's point of view. (Spoilers for S2 in case anyone hasn't seen it!)





	Penguin's Return.

He had known very well what would happen. He had made his decision very early on. When he had seen the confirmation of  _ foul play _ at hand something within him had switched. As if Strange’s rewiring of his mind just simply clicked out of place once more. For the first time in weeks, Oswald felt the familiar rise of anger within his chest. It spread like an ache, a pressure upon his very soul and yet he remained still in the moment, a low laughter slipping past his lips. There the evidence was, plain as day and he could feel his muscles tense at the mere sight. The memory of his father convulsing upon the polished wooden floors was still so clear within his mind. It caused a grief to mingle with the resentment, yet it seemed to simply fuel his rage. 

 

They knew him so well by now, had tried their damnedest to attempt to make Elijah throw him out. Oswald thought that perhaps they would have treated him better, and perhaps not left their  **evidence** lingering within the kitchen cabinets. Especially when he was left to be there nearly every day, all day. It was a full circle he supposed given that was the story his father had spoken of how he and his mother had met. She was a cook. Yet he was soon to break free of that circle, tossing himself into the burning depths that his rage could take him. There was nothing that could stop him now, and the wheels in his mind were already turning. 

 

He could easily play innocence longer. 

 

It hadn’t taken much for him to disarm his step siblings. Sasha was far too spoiled and proper to know how to defend herself and Charles was surprisingly feeble when it came to fights. Despite having the upper hand over Oswald’s disorienting rage and his crippled leg, neither were able to defend themselves properly. Oh, what a shame it was too. They could have been such great friends! Such a good  _ family _ ! What a shame the three of them seemed to only wish for one thing. He couldn’t entirely blame them as he knew very well the draw that money could have upon someone, yet they had  **killed** his  _ father _ . The only person he had left in this world. That wasn’t something he could just let go. Though they may have believed he was clueless, the same naive boy that had walked through those doors with Elijah and not the criminal they had read so much about. 

 

They had let their guards down and that was  _ their _ mistake. Not his. Cooking went as normal. You could say he had quite the flair for it, having learned from Gertrud quite a bit. Even if what he was preparing wasn’t exactly a typical meal. He was ever curious to hear Grace’s loud opinions about this meal. Would she think it was overcooked? Push it aside, unaware that it was her own  _ child _ . Perhaps she would believe it to be just right? How ironic would that be? Oswald’s lips curled into a devilish grin at the thought. Each chop, each slice seemed to relieve some of the tension that had built up within him. It was as if within those moments his humanity, if he truly had any to begin with , had utterly vanished. He felt no remorse towards his actions. He did not feel guilt linger over his head, he did not feel any sort of melancholy at the bloody sight before him. All he felt was a searing rage, one that blinded him to any other emotions. 

 

“I hope you find it fits your tastes.” Oswald spoke grimly, yet smoothly. A sickening sweetness to his voice. He moved to brush off the dark plaid suit that he wore, almost eagerly awaiting for Grace’s first bite. Grace glanced at him, looking him over briefly, “You look different.” She observed which only caused Oswald’s grin broaden, “Fixed my hair differently.” He shrugged, continuing to watch her so eagerly. It was almost sickening to watch. To watch her carefully slice and consume the meat he had prepared for her. Oswald himself, was not a cannibal after all, though amongst the churning of his stomach there was a residing sadistic glee beginning to rise up within him. Anger, and an odd joy swirled within him as he watched her thoughtfully chew, a look of distaste present upon her features. 

 

Oswald’s features remained mostly neutral, though his eyes seemed to hold a glint of amusement amongst them. They had wanted so dearly for him to be the criminal they had read about, the criminal they had seen on all the old broadcasts. Well…  **Here he was** . 

 

Grace’s response was practically all that he had hoped for. After his father’s passing, despite it only having been a few days, he had gotten to know his step family rather well. Right under their noses, he observed their actions, their ways. Instead of reacting with his currently pent up anger, he simply forced a small look of distraught across his pale features. “Perhaps this piece will better suit you.” Oswald spoke quietly, yet coldly. The smoothness to his voice had lost the warm and gentle tone it had previously had. Grace took no notice, simply bitterly awaiting the next piece of her meal. 

 

How she was not aware of her own children’s absence by now was beyond him. Surely she didn’t wish to waste all of this meal? Especially since she wasn’t enjoying it. Perhaps now that she had successfully pocketed Elijah’s wealth she cared little for such things. Oswald’s jaw clenched instinctively at the thought. 

 

He simply reached forward, carefully serving the next piece. His hands were tense, shaking as he served the piece though it was hardly from the nervous energy that he had withheld under Strange’s brainwashing. His anger, his  _ anticipation _ was rising as he watched Grace take another petite bite. A look of disappointment crossed her features almost immediately, “It tastes the same.” She hummed in almost a snobbish manner. 

 

Oh golly gee! She just believed her children tasted the same! The sinister joy that had welled up within before was nearly bursting free. He was nearly to that breaking point. The point where his emotions would combust within him, causing him to lash out in any means necessary. Oh, how little Grace truly knew about him. He rocked casually on the balls of his feet, awaiting some sort of conversation. Though his patience very swiftly rose thin amongst the silence, “What can I say?” He hummed, causing the woman to look his way, “Much better than my  **slut** mother’s goulash.” Such words almost pained him to say, something in the back of his mind triggering an instinctive guilt at saying such foul things of his mother. Yet it initiated the reaction that he had wanted, Grace swiftly had grown more uneasy. 

 

He supposed being alone in a room with him was all it took. Some harsh words and odd euphoria from another would make anyone uncomfortable, especially if they had previously been a  _ known _ convict. 

 

Grace quickly attempted to change the conversation topic, avoiding away from the subject of Gertrud. “Where are the children?” Oswald’s heart almost skipped a beat at the words, “Go ring the bell once more.” His lips curled into grin, and he shrugged ever casually, “I doubt they will hear.” The younger spoke, voice still calm yet carrying an ever grim tone underneath. She glanced at him once more, dark eyes flickering with fear. Her reactions simply fed his anger, his desperate desire for revenge. Anticipation made his fingers twitch at his sides as he awaited the perfect opportunity to arise. He had to hold at least some patience. After all he wanted to see the sudden realization wash over her face as she realized… 

 

“Charles? Sasha?” Her calls went unanswered and Oswald continued to watch her ever closely with a sharp, light gaze. There was now a bitterness that seeped into his actions, a gracefulness brought on by pure  _ spite _ for the other. His act of innocence had vanished, and her few remaining moments alive she would, at last, see him for what he truly was. “ _ Where are they _ ?” She asked quietly. 

 

Oswald wasted no time now. Memories flickered through his mind, simply adding fuel to the livid fire within him. His body was tense, and he almost towered over her, “I found the sherry, Grace.” He spoke smoothly, her name rolling off his tongue like a sickening venom. His dark gaze clouded entirely with fear now, watching him a moment before averting and looking away. “The one with poison in it that you used to kill my father.” The male continued, his voice grew ever slightly uneven, his anger beginning to crack through his demeanour. 

 

She was truly unsettled now, shifting in her chair. She looked almost like a trapped animal before, waiting the perfect opportunity to flee but she was unaware that she would  _ not _ get that moment.  **Penguin’s** fingertips pressed against the cold wooden surface of the table, steadily sliding towards the silverware that Grace left unattended. “What on Earth are you talking about?” She dared ask, dared to play as if she did not know what she had done. His fingers curled against the table’s surface, causing a momentary shake as his anger simply grew and  _ grew _ . “You should have thrown it away!” He scoffed suddenly, leaning backwards ever slightly as a broken laughter briefly slipped past his lips, “But I suppose you didn’t wish to throw out such good poison!” He continued, his anger now evident amongst every part of his existence. His features were contorted into a pure rage, yet his grin remained plastered to his lips. 

 

The transition happened. Grace’s fight or flight kicked in at perhaps the worst moment. His hand swiftly swept to the side, grasping the steak knife in which she had so graciously left unguarded upon the dining table. Penguin pointed it at her, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he watched her returned to her seat ever slowly. He could practically feel her fear and he simply could not wait for the big reveal. The big twist that would lead to her end! The anticipation was practically driving him mad! “ **_Don’t go_ ** .” He spoke in an eerie calm, his grin twisting into a more devilish form. Grace called out again, relying so desperately for her children to save her from the big mean  _ criminal _ in their dining room. Penguin found it to be nothing but pitiful. “They won’t hear you!” He almost hissed, a sly gleam crossing his light gaze as he stared down upon her. It was hard to hold back laughter as he practically basked in her utter fear of him. “You thought,” He paused, shaking his head lightly, “That they  **tasted** the same.” 

 

He awaited it. He watched eagerly as the sick realization crossed her face and she stared up at him helplessly. Nevertheless the man continued on, his anger now being released all at once in a dangerous manner. “But  _ Sasha _ ,” Another pause, followed by him prodding his index finger into one of the meats upon the platter before pressing it to his lips. His stomach churned once more at the thought of his actions, but he was far too focused upon the situation at hand to react. “Is far more tender.” He informed, a grim and low laughter leaving his throat. This was it the moment he had waited for! Living briefly with the sick guilt of having consumed pieces of her children, having seen the face of who he truly was. It was time for Grace’s end. 

 

How unfortunate but necessary. He thought sarcastically, licking his lips before leaping forward to sink the knife into her chest. 

 

_ He was back after all this time _ . A hand reached up to wipe at the blood upon his cheek.  _ The  _ **_Penguin_ ** _ was back, and Gotham surely was not ready for his return _ . 


End file.
